


The Bridges Burnt

by overprimrose



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Strangers to Lovers, the selling point of the story is that theyre dumbasses caught in a dumbass plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overprimrose/pseuds/overprimrose
Summary: Unwilling to marry a man he's never met, Prince Minhyun runs away. It isn't long before he meets Aaron, a lost stranger who changes everything.
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun/Aaron Kwak | Aron
Comments: 19
Kudos: 67





	The Bridges Burnt

For as long as Minhyun could remember, he’d liked the middle of the road. Coasting through life was easier than hugging the edges, and Minhyun liked when people called him easy to work with. They called him mild. They said it was rare to see him angry and even rarer for him to allow his anger to affect him.

Maybe that was why Minhyun almost felt like laughing now, as he made the worst decision he’d ever made. It was exhilarating. And terrifying. He’d been so angry. Minhyun was _still_ so angry—so angry he planned to cross a bridge and set it to fire behind him.

Figuratively, of course. What Minhyun meant was that he was never going to come back.

The door to the stables creaked open and Minhyun froze. This was the least dangerous leg of his escape, and the one where Minhyun most feared meeting a person. 

If anyone was here, it was Jonghyun. Minhyun had lost track of how many times he’d told his friend not to fall asleep in the royal stables. Tonight, at least, it seemed Jonghyun had listened. The only sound was the loud breathing of sleeping horses.

Minhyun passed his Father’s horse, and his Mother’s. Sujin’s was next, and then there was his own. Dawn had a pretty chestnut coat and a tendency to look golden in the early morning light, a tendency that had given her her name. 

Minhyun woke her and readied her to leave. The tack had the royal insignia on it, but he couldn’t do anything about that. Besides, it might be the least of his worries: Minhyun had grabbed the most casual clothes he owned, but he wasn’t naïve enough to believe he’d blend in wearing fine, tailor-made clothes specifically altered to fit him.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. Or maybe there was. Jonghyun had left his overcoat draped over a half-door that led to where they kept the feed. Minhyun tried it on. It was too small and it wasn’t clean—Minhyun grimaced when he patted it and a cloud of dust rose—but it would make him blend in. He brushed whatever dirt he could off of it and tried to ignore when it rode up over his wrists

It didn’t matter. He’d left his pride in his bedroom, the moment he’d made this awful decision.

The stable hands kept a schedule down here, so Minhyun nabbed the piece of charcoal they used to write. He scrawled a quick ‘take any coat you want from my closet’ and didn’t bother to sign it. Jonghyun would know.

“Come on, girl,” Minhyun said and took Dawn’s reins. He led her towards the forest.

Minhyun might have ditched his royal outfits and tossed away his crown, but the guards would still recognize him. Most of them had watched him grow up. They’d watched him learn to ride and then watched him ride Dawn.

On a night like tonight, the eve of when an important delegation from the neighboring kingdom would arrive, all the guards would be at their posts. Minhyun’s only chance of escape was the path everyone knew was too dangerous to travel at night.

He’d brought his bow, of course, and even a knife he only kind-of knew how to use. Minhyun wasn’t the greatest at fighting, but he’d learned what was necessary to defend himself. A Prince surrounded by a magical forest couldn’t afford to do anything else.

Of course, the first step of staying safe was to not make dumb decisions. Dawn fought his order as he pushed her toward the path. Even she recognized that Minhyun was being stupid.

Fireflies danced at the forest edges, and faerie lights flickered from within. It would be dark there, and already the faerie lights seemed more plentiful than usual. They were attracted to the commotion of the delegation too. Minhyun couldn’t risk waiting until daybreak.

He entered the woods with precaution but without fear. The forest treated a friend differently than a stranger, and Minhyun had first entered these woods as a child.

He’d long grown used to their tricks and was prepared to be surprised by what they threw at him.

Sure enough, lights twinkled along the dirt path. Dawn shied away from the trees on the left, and Minhyun kept his hands on the reins but also tensed in preparation to wield his bow if necessary.

To calm himself, he tightened his hand in Dawn’s mane. She was warm and steady beneath him. Calm and collected.

He wished he was the same.

Minhyun would regret this. Almost certainly. He’d thrown away his title and his family and everything about the life he knew. Thrown it all away, like his life was a game or something to squander. More than that, he risked his own country’s well-being.

Lights twinkled on ahead, now directly on the path before him. Minhyun took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time for distractions. He’d made his choice.

Of course, that was the exact moment he heard someone crashing through the forest to his left. Right as Minhyun turned, bow already pulled and an arrow resting on the still-loose string, a man stumbled from the trees. His clothes were torn from the brambles, and he seemed to notice Minhyun only after he reached the path.

“Don’t—don’t shoot,” the man managed. His voice tremored, and his eyes had a glaze to them. Minhyun swore under his breath. Faerie lights had a way of making a person forget who they were and what they wanted. This man hadn’t even bothered to draw his sword—though he wouldn’t do much good anyway. Within a forest as thick as this one, a sword as broad as the man’s wouldn’t do much. He might as well have come unarmed.

“Who are you?” Minhyun demanded. The man didn’t sound like he was from here. He sounded like he was from Selegna—which was the last thing Minhyun needed right now.

“I’m lost,” the man said. “I wasn’t—I’ve never been here before, and I don’t know where I am.”

“Why are you here at all?”

A pause. The man frowned, like he was struggling to remember. “I was…told there’s a path. I’m here—I’m a trader. I couldn’t find the path. Can you—lower your bow?”

Minhyun did, though he kept it in his hands. Perhaps this man wasn’t Selegnan. Minhyun certainly wasn’t overly skilled at placing accents, and a lot of traders came through these parts. “You found it,” he said.

“What?”

“The path.”

“Where are you going?” the man asked. He seemed to not dare to approach Dawn. “Can I come with you?”

Minhyun bit back his immediate ‘absolutely not.’ This man clearly needed help—and was scared enough to trust a stranger. Minhyun had made an awful choice today, and maybe this was the universe’s opportunity for him to make up for it. He’d almost certainly save this man’s life.

But the man was also a wildcard. He was a wildcard on the wildest night of Minhyun’s life. He could ruin everything.

Or he could help Minhyun. No matter what disguises Minhyun donned, he wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d pass as a commoner or a normal traveler. While near the castle, Minhyun might even be recognized as the Nasubian Prince.

“What’s your name?” Minhyun asked.

“Aaron.”

No family name. Whether the man wanted to keep it a secret or whether his head was still scrambled, Minhyun didn’t know.

“I’m Minhyun,” he said. “I’ll lead you out of here on one condition: if we meet any people, you do the talking. If they ask about me, tell them I’m from wherever you’re from, and I don’t speak a word of the language.”

“Are you…running away?” Now Aaron sounded nervous. Minhyun saw his eyes were clearer than they had been.

“Yes.”

“Are you a criminal or something?”

No, Minhyun was a prince. “Something like that,” he said.

Aaron’s conflict was written all across his face, but really, he had no choice. The forest treated strangers much differently than friends. He’d die here if he stayed behind.

“Okay,” Aaron said.

It took the rest of the night, but by early morning, they found themselves inside a quiet inn within the nearby border town, which provided stables for Dawn. Minhyun had a mask on, though he likely didn’t have to worry. His family had never been much into going outside the castle. It would take a remarkable amount of bad luck to run into someone who knew him.

“We can get a room together,” Aaron said. “Split the costs.” He hadn’t offered much more information about himself, but something that happened that night had scared him. It might have just been the Fae. Minhyun wouldn’t blame him.

And so even though money wasn’t a worry for Minhyun—he’d brought enough with him, and he had his plans to make more—he agreed to stay with Aaron.

They got the room, unceremoniously went to sleep, and the next morning found themselves with a homemade breakfast, delivered by the wife of the inn’s owner.

It was possibly the best thing Minhyun had ever eaten—or maybe he was only the hungriest he’d been in a long while. Aaron, too, seemed taken by it.

“Are you going back to find the rest of your party?” Minhyun asked once they had finished.

Aaron managed to look remarkably uncomfortable remarkably quickly. Minhyun hadn’t bothered to guess at the story he’d given him earlier, but now—

“I was alone,” Aaron said. “There wasn’t anyone else.”

“You’re not a trader, then.” They’d never travel alone.

Aaron didn’t agree or refute Minhyun’s claim, but he didn’t seem to expect Minhyun to realize so quickly. He cast a glance towards the door, like he was about to run for it. 

But then he gathered himself and faced Minhyun again.

“What crime did you commit?” Aaron countered.

Too bad Minhyun had an answer for him.

“I followed my heart,” he said, and he wasn’t lying.

\--

The thing was, they’d given Minhyun the news late. They’d given it to him long after sunset, and the while the messenger had been apologetic, his father the King was less so.

For some reason, it was this that sent Minhyun spinning the most. They’d decided his future and the path of his life without seeking Minhyun’s opinion, yes, but then they hadn’t even bothered to inform Minhyun at an appropriate hour.

The messenger had asked if he was all right after she’d said it, and she’d seemed to mean it. She’d looked like she wanted to apologize, despite how she’d only done her job.

Minhyun had assured her he was perfectly fine, and then he’d spent the remainder of that night wide awake. The next night, too.

On the third, he’d left forever. Minhyun had snuck into the stables and taken his horse, and he’d potentially ruined the relationship between his kingdom and a neighboring kingdom.

It was awful because he’d chosen himself over his family and his kingdom and his duty. But Minhyun couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Not yet.

Not when the messenger had stood there and explained his Father and his advisors had discussed the best way to bridge the gaps between their own isolationist state, Nasub, and the next closest: Selegna, a massive, well-developed, prosperous territory.

They’d reached a conclusion: a marriage. Of course Minhyun was the choice, as he was the second child. Without consulting nor informing Minhyun, they’d contacted Selegna, reached an agreement, and set a date. The other party set out to journey from their own land to Minhyun.

They likely traveled for two weeks or so before that messenger knocked on Minhyun’s door, late that night.

In short: Minhyun was told his fiancé, who Minhyun had never even heard of, let alone met, would arrive in three days. Plans for the wedding would continue, now with Minhyun’s involvement, and it would happen around 3 months later, enough time for their more far-reaching guests to make preparations. Then they’d travel to the other nation and Minhyun would be introduced there as well. There’d be another ceremony.

Minhyun might not come back. 

“Do you even know his name?” Minhyun had asked, when the messenger had admitted she knew no other details. He’d almost laughed, almost desperately, almost like it was funny how they’d toyed with his life, when the messenger said she didn’t know.

Behind closed doors, Minhyun had spoken to himself. It was a lot of _‘how could they do this without telling me?’_ and _‘how am I going to marry a man I’ve never met?’_ and then finally a single _‘I’d rather leave than do this.’_

Just like that, the speaking stopped.

Minhyun had spent the rest of the night staring at his ceiling.

He’d rather leave.

He’d rather _leave._

News of the missing Prince arrived the next evening. Minhyun and Aaron hid at a table in the corner of the inn’s tavern. Aaron had a beer in front of him; Minhyun a water. They’d already finished eating, and Aaron had paid; he’d called it a return gift for how Minhyun had helped him replace the supplies he’d lost to the forest earlier.

Minhyun hadn’t known how to tell him that he didn’t mind in the least. It was a good distraction, and they’d had a fun time. Aaron treated getting to change his clothes like the greatest luxury this world offered, and Minhyun, too, picked up some clothes that would blend in better.

Minhyun had a mask on, despite the dim lights and the way not a single person paid either of them much attention. Most people were at or near the bar, and their loud voices washed over Minhyun and Aaron’s table in snippets and shouts.

“I’m going to keep going soon,” Minhyun was saying. “And once I go far enough… I need to find a place to live, and some work.”

“Work like what?” Aaron asked. “What trade?”

“I’d like to say bookkeeping,” Minhyun said. “More probably odds-and-ends, until I figure something better out.”

“You’ll struggle with that if you keep pretending not to know the language.”

“That’s only until I get some distance between myself and this place,” Minhyun said. “It’s not forever.”

“You’re lucky I could help you,” Aaron said. He went to smile, but it twisted like a grimace. “My Father always said I was best at the language.”

“Were you a translator, then?” Minhyun was desperately curious about where Aaron had come from and how he'd ended up in Nasub. The last thing Minhyun had predicted when he’d left was to gain a companion, but it was quickly becoming clear that this companion changed everything.

It meant something that Minhyun had someone with him during what was supposed to be the loneliest journey of his life. Minhyun didn’t know what it meant yet, but it was something.

“Not quite,” Aaron said.

“Where are you going next?”

Before Aaron could answer, the door slammed open. It banged shut just as hard, and the bartender threw an annoyed glance at the men who’d just entered. The regulars crowded around the bar didn’t spare a look until the newcomers spoke.

“News from the castle runners!” the one said. “The Prince—he’s disappeared!”

Minhyun tightened his hand around his glass and turned back to face Aaron. He didn’t want to watch anyone gossip about him.

Aaron didn’t look back for some time—still the ‘everyone’s looking for him!’ and ‘they think the Fae got him! They found his horse!’ rang out loud enough.

Minhyun tried not to bristle as he burned under the gossip. No one would connect him with their image of the Prince, especially not with Aaron’s presence. Half of what they said was wrong anyway. Minhyun wouldn’t just be led astray by the Fae, not when he knew the forest as well as he did and because the Fae didn’t want retribution from Minhyun’s family.

Perhaps it was easier to blame them than believe Minhyun abandoned his country.

Aaron leaned towards Minhyun, resting one forearm on the table. His eyes were serious, eyebrows drawn. In the dim light, Minhyun found himself unable to stop his eyes from roaming the contours of Aaron’s face.

He waited for Aaron to bring it up. A missing prince was a big deal. Or maybe Aaron would ask him whether he was alright. Minhyun couldn’t imagine he looked too great right now.

“We should go,” Aaron said. He picked his beer up and drained the last couple gulps.

“What?”

“They’ll gossip all night. We won’t be able to escape it,” Aaron said.

A stroke of luck, maybe, or just that Aaron had his own reasons to avoid the crowds. It was odd that he’d suggested leaving rather than returning to their room, but Minhyun wouldn’t test his luck by prying. The less time he spent where people discussed the Prince, the better.

“Does this mean you’re coming with me?” Minhyun asked.

Aaron hesitated. “I have nowhere else to go,” he said finally. It was somber. For the first time, Minhyun wondered if Aaron, too, had cut the ties behind him.

They stood, and Minhyun let Aaron lead the way. In the dense room with its tables and chairs and people, Minhyun found himself resting his hand on Aaron’s upper arm to make sure they stayed close.

The process of paying for their stay and tipping the stable hand who’d cared for Dawn went quickly. Minhyun had already had his bags packed, and Aaron’s things had been bought that day.

“You’ll have to travel a lot slower with me,” Aaron said. He’d waited to mention it until after they’d attached their belongings to Dawn’s tack.

“Good thing I’m not in a rush then,” Minhyun said, and that was that. Minhyun led Dawn towards the door, with Aaron on her other side.

“Wait!” The stable hand who’d cared for Dawn stood there, the tip Minhyun had given her still clutched between her fingers. She was a teenager, with short hair cropped right under her ears. Another stable hand had joined her—a slightly older boy with a grubby look to him. “You’re from the castle, aren’t you? Are you leaving because of the missing Prince?”

Minhyun wasn’t about to admit anything, especially not to a teenager, not even one smart enough to make such good guesses. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said.

“Your tack’s got the crown’s symbol on it,” she said.

Minhyun bit back a swear. He couldn’t deny that. “I’m running a simple errand. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, you’ve got him with you!” She pointed at Aaron. “He’s a translator, isn’t he? He’s from _there._ You’re the runner they’re sending to tell Selegna the marriage is off, right? Won’t that be dangerous? What if they blame us?” Her eyes were shining, despite what the broken marriage could cause.

“You shouldn’t talk about it like that,” Minhyun rebuked. “We’ll be lucky if this doesn’t end in war. To pull out the agreement now—it’s serious. Don’t treat it lightly.”

The sharpness of his voice killed the girl’s excitement. Minhyun did his best not to feel bad as she averted her eyes.

“We should go,” Minhyun said. Aaron didn’t agree immediately. Was he going to refuse to come now? There was some type of battle happening in his eyes, something that rooted him to the spot.

Minhyun couldn’t make him come. 

“Right,” Minhyun said. He turned and led Dawn from the stables. Maybe he’d always been supposed to make this journey alone.

Outside, the night was mild. The tavern’s lanterns glowed, as did the ones arranged along the walkways. Minhyun hadn’t spent enough time here, but he couldn’t do anything about that now. He’d likely never come this close to the castle again.

“Minhyun, wait!” Aaron caught up to him and wrapped his hand around Dawn’s reins, as though he feared Minhyun would leap on and disappear into the darkness.

“You want to come?” Minhyun asked.

Aaron nodded.

“Why?”

“I don’t have anyone else,” Aaron admitted. “Or anywhere else. And I like you.”

“You hesitated.”

“Are you really from the castle? Do you really think there will be war?”

“Selegna will be angry. This agreement was always going to benefit Nasub more than them.”

“Everyone knows the woods are dangerous. I doubt they’ll think anyone did this intentionally.”

“He ran away!” Minhyun snapped. Aaron flinched, and Minhyun forced some of the heat from his voice. “And he knows the forest far better than most. Most people know he’s on good terms with the nymphs and can navigate the Fae.”

“But the Prince has never been here before? Why would he know any of that?”

“Aaron, the Prince grew up in the castle.”

“Not the Selegnan Prince,” Aaron said. “You do know he’s the one people are talking about, right?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear them?” Aaron asked. “They found his horse. They think he followed the faerie lights.” Aaron grimaced at the mention of the lights that had led him astray.

“That…can’t be right,” Minhyun said.

“Why do you think the Nasubian Prince has gone missing?”

It was jarring to hear himself referred to in such a way. “I guess I misunderstood.”

“Will there be war with the Prince gone?” Aaron asked again, like Minhyun’s head wasn’t spinning in fifty different directions.

“If Selegna blames us for his disappearance—”

“They won’t. They’re not ones for illogical responses.” So Aaron was Selegnan, then. No wonder he cared. It would be awful to be stuck on the wrong side of a war. “So without that?”

“No,” Minhyun said finally. “No, there won’t be war.”

He was damn lucky. 

\--

Minhyun couldn’t sleep, despite the nice dinner and camp they’d made, and the soreness that dragged at him after a couple days of sleeping on the ground and riding for hours. Aaron had no such qualms. He’d passed out a while ago, with his head just barely on Minhyun’s shoulder, like that wasn’t causing Minhyun an entire crisis.

His breath burned Minhyun’s skin. They were sharing a blanket. Aaron radiated heat, and Minhyun wanted to pull him closer, to really hug him.

He didn’t want to stop there, either.

And if he were really, really honest, that was the true reason Minhyun couldn’t sleep. Aaron’s lips always looked so soft—even though he did tend to chew on them. He got giggly when he got embarrassed—would he giggle against Minhyun’s lips? Or would he be quiet and confident, and fuck, how was everything about Aaron hot?

Tomorrow would be their last travel day, and the next they’d arrive at Minhyun’s destination—a beautiful, small city, tucked into a hillside. Before it had grown dark, they’d been able to see the steep hills that surrounded the place. They’d have another choice there: Would they still stay together? Would they go their separate ways?

Minhyun couldn’t imagine them splitting up now.

He had few guarantees with this new life he’d chosen for himself, and Aaron was the constant he wanted.

He looked so relaxed when he slept. His mouth was open the slightest amount, and Minhyun was going to go insane if he thought about Aaron’s lips one more time. Either that or he’d die or something.

As if on cue, Aaron began to snore. Despite himself—Minhyun rolled his eyes more dramatically than he’d ever do if someone could see him—he found the snoring endearing. Maybe that was even more telling than how much Minhyun wanted to kiss Aaron.

Still, the snoring got old quick. Minhyun could barely hear himself think. Finally, he slipped as gently as possible from under their blanket and left their tent. A soft wind pulled at him as he resealed it. They’d lost heat as they gained elevation and he didn’t want Aaron to get cold.

Minhyun, on the other hand, could use a decent dose of cold wind.

He didn’t go far before he found a large rock to sit on. From it, he could lean back and watch the stars. He’d always liked the stars, no matter how much he hated learning astronomy. Minhyun had preferred to see his own patterns in them, rather than anyone else’s. He used to argue with Minki about that.

These days, Minhyun thanked the stars every time he looked up. Not only had he successfully escaped his fate, but the disappearance of the Selegnan Prince meant there likely wouldn’t be retributions. Undoubtably, he had been warned against following the faerie lights.

Minhyun was so lucky. He’d followed his heart, and he hadn’t caused a war. There were some consequences—Minhyun would never return to his old position or his family, but compared to what could have been, Minhyun was lucky.

“Minhyun?”

There was also Aaron, who was now stumbling out of their tent. He swore when he stubbed his toe on a rock, and Minhyun had to laugh.

“Graceful,” he said

“Okay, asshole.” Aaron finally reached Minhyun, but with how Minhyun was sitting—one leg stretched out, leaned back on his elbows to watch the stars and now Aaron’s looming face—he couldn’t fit. Aaron crouched so they were around the same height. “Meanwhile I only came out to make sure you’re okay.”

That was another thing. Aaron was damn caring. If he wasn’t careful about that, Minhyun was going to want to keep him around forever. Minhyun kind-of already did.

“I’m fine,” Minhyun said. Now he sat up and swung around so he sat facing Aaron. It put their faces close enough together for Minhyun to see the stubble on his chin in only the light of the moon. “I’m happy.”

“…isn’t that a good thing?”

“What? Of course it is.”

Aaron groaned like an old man as he moved to sit beside Minhyun. He slid close, so their arms pressed together. “Who comes out and stares at the stars when they’re _happy?”_

Minhyun leaned his head onto Aaron’s shoulder. Even sitting down, he had to scrunch to do it. Aaron drew small, tentative circles into Minhyun’s back.

“Why did you come out here?”

“Honestly?”

“Tell me, Minhyun.”

“You snore.” He laughed when Aaron tipped Minhyun off his shoulder. “It’s horrific.” 

Minhyun still hadn’t told him much of everything. Not about the bridges burned behind him or the fears he’d had. He certainly hadn’t told Aaron who he really was, and Minhyun didn’t plan to anytime soon.

“I thought I’d come this way alone,” Minhyun said. “But you’re here with me. So I’m happy.” He didn’t believe in hiding feelings. At least not like this.

“So you’re staring up at the stars and thinking about me?” Aaron grinned. He had only a thin white shirt on, but he still radiated heat, even while Minhyun’s fingers froze.

“I was thinking about you in our nice, warm tent, but then I couldn’t think at all through your snoring.”

“Don’t be like that.” Aaron batted Minhyun’s face, then laughed as Minhyun flinched. “Hey, look at me.”

Aaron grabbed Minhyun’s cold hands with his warmer ones, and Minhyun’s heart tried to fly straight from his chest. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

Aaron moved one hand to cup Minhyun’s cheek—the same side he’d hit only seconds earlier. Minhyun knew what was coming, and he wanted it so damn badly.

But he couldn’t. Not quite yet. He pulled back, but now it was Minhyun who trapped Aaron’s hand in his.

“You still don’t know everything about me,” Minhyun warned. He refused to pretend he wasn’t keeping secrets. Minhyun wasn’t a liar.

“I know. I still don’t know what crime involves following your heart…”

“Aaron.”

“I have secrets too, Minhyun. It’s okay.”

Minhyun had known that, of course. Aaron hadn’t volunteered any more information than Minhyun about where he’d come from or who he’d been. Minhyun still didn’t even know his family name. Still, it was hard to imagine Aaron’s secrets beings anything as grave as abandoning his country to the possibility of war, all for his own selfish reasons.

“Why did you come with me?” Minhyun asked. “After I led you out of the forest?”

“You told me you followed your heart,” Aaron said. “And—and when you said that, I knew that that was what I wanted to do too. I looked at you then and knew I wanted to come with you, and not stay there.”

“You decided? Just like that?” Maybe the reason Minhyun liked Aaron so much was how _free_ he was. Minhyun had chose that for the first ever time right before he’d met Aaron, and now Minhyun wanted more of it again.

“I don’t regret it. Meeting you and coming with you. Being here. And Minhyun-ah, there’s things I can’t tell you about me, but I’ll never lie to you, okay?”

“I won’t either.” That was enough for Minhyun. Somehow. He didn’t want to lose Aaron.

He wanted even more from Aaron.

His thumb still stroked Minhyun’s cheek. “Aaron,” Minhyun said.

Aaron’s eyes followed Minhyun’s lips.

“Aaron, kiss me already.” And without waiting for a response and without waiting for Aaron to actually do it, Minhyun chose freedom again. 

The kiss was short, broken by Aaron as he shifted for a better angle. He followed it up with the long kiss Minhyun had wanted from the start. Aaron’s lips were as soft as Minhyun imagined. It didn’t take much before Aaron’s breaths came in pants, and Minhyun was no better. 

Minhyun tightened his hands in Aaron’s shirt and tugged Aaron as close as possible. This was what Minhyun wanted.

Aaron was exactly what Minhyun wanted.

He seemed content to let Minhyun lead. Aaron didn’t protest when Minhyun’s hands went from his shoulders, down his arms, finally to his chest. Aaron was skinny, but Minhyun still liked the feel of Aaron’s chest under his fingertips, even through Aaron’s shirt.

When they broke apart, Aaron leaned in and kissed Minhyun’s shoulder. Even though he could barely feel the pressure of Aaron’s lips through his own shirt, it sent a spike of heat through him.

Then Aaron turned his head to kiss the junction of Minhyun’s neck and collarbone. Aaron’s lips moved against Minhyun’s throat, and now it was Minhyun’s turn to tip his head up and let Aaron do whatever he wished.

He pulled off sooner than Minhyun wanted, then pulled out of Minhyun’s arms entirely. Minhyun shivered at the loss. Aaron stared as though transfixed, and Minhyun understood the sentiment. Aaron had swollen lips and a sweaty forehead. His shirt collar had been stretched to show part of his collarbone, and his chest heaved.

Before Minhyun could drag him into another kiss, Aaron spoke:

“To the tent?” he proposed, and Minhyun agreed. He stood with every intent to go straight to the tent, only to pull Aaron tight against him again. Standing up changed everything. Aaron was so small.

He wrapped his arms around Minhyun’s neck and tilted his chin way up to kiss Minhyun some more. Minhyun took advantage of the positioning to slide his hands under Aaron’s shirt.

Aaron flinched away from his touch and broke their kiss. “Ah, your hands are cold.”

“We’ll warm up inside.” Minhyun reluctantly released him. Aaron led the way to their tent, and sure enough, it was considerably warmer, even without getting in their sleeping bags.

Aaron laid down, and Minhyun was quick to follow. As soon as Minhyun settled his weight down more, Aaron flipped them around.

The blankets were uneven and lumpy under Minhyun’s back, but he didn’t mind. Aaron sat on his hips, and Minhyun must have looked surprised, because Aaron leaned in close and placed his hands on Minhyun’s stomach. He let out this short laugh and smiled. It had a lot of excitement-anticipation-nervousness in it, and Minhyun didn’t know what face he made back, as his heart skipped around in his chest. Whatever it was made Aaron’s eyes soften.

Then he leaned down to kiss Minhyun, and when Aaron settled his weight down, Minhyun realized quickly that there was nothing soft about him.

\--

Minhyun wasn’t willing to call settling down in a new place easy, but he did think they were doing a good job. Like most of the towns within Nasub, it was rather quaint for a city, but big enough that they didn’t face the ‘everyone knows everyone and now you’re a stranger’ effect of small towns. Minhyun and Aaron existed in relative obscurity—even as they pursued jobs and met coworkers and even made friends.

Dongho was one such friend. Minhyun had met him the second time he’d gone to a local bar and sang for some extra cash and entertainment for the night. He’d finished a handful of songs, then took a break, and during that break, Dongho had plopped down at his table.

Dongho had smiled, asked Minhyun how he was, and thrown them into such a whirlwind of a conversation about Minhyun’s voice and whether he wrote songs or made music or played instruments that Minhyun had left hours later with a voice hoarse from speaking rather than singing, and a new friend.

Since then, Dongho had taken to kidnapping Minhyun for hours at a time, whether to thrust a page of lyrics into his hands and tell him to sing them or to play something for him or just _‘have you been to the overlook yet? You need to see the overlook. It’s really pretty.’_

Aaron, too, had become fast friends with a couple others, even some who also spoke his native language, which Aaron seemed to find a relief.

They made ends meet; they began to build lives. Minhyun got used to spending the night in Aaron’s arms and wondered at how he’d been unable to imagine him sharing his daily life with another being only a couple months ago.

Funny to think he’d met Aaron so close to when he had been supposed to meet the Prince. Minhyun liked to think of it all as a sign that he’d made the right choice. 

Everything was going so well, of course something had to come in and ruin it. This particular thing came in the form of a message Minhyun didn’t read.

The bird arrived with a note tied to its foot. Minhyun had opened a window only a minute or two ago, and now the bird perched on the back of one of their kitchen table chairs.

It had giant black eyes, with irises so dark the eye might as well have been all pupil. It was smallish, covered in brown feathers—though the description made it sound hopelessly plain, while up close the bird was patterned with all the shades of brown imaginable. It looked more like tree bark than feathers. 

Minhyun didn’t take its letter.

“Shoo,” he said, and the bird didn’t move. Aaron was out, so it didn’t matter how long the bird sat there.

Eventually, it took the hint, and when Minhyun turned around, the bird had gone.

He wasn’t naïve enough to think it all was as anticlimactic as it sounded. Only the forest nymphs used nightjars for communication, and Minki had never responded well to being ignored.

\--

Minhyun had always been a talker, and he’d never had much in him for secrets. Those two traits had always made him come off as somewhat naïve, and maybe it was true. The more time passed, the more Minhyun struggled to convince himself he couldn’t tell Aaron the truth.

At the same time, he tried to ensure he never pushed Aaron too far with his own secrets. Minhyun had asked once if he’d ever return to Selegna, and Aaron had gotten uncharacteristically short with Minhyun and had been off for the longest time after, staring into their empty fireplace. Minhyun had made him tea, and it was only then that Aaron granted him the slightest smile.

Minhyun wanted them to truly be able to comfort each other.

Even more than that, however, Minhyun wanted to tell Aaron about all the other stuff, the good stuff.

Minhyun’s memories were awash with perpetual reminders that he was the Prince. How could he tell Aaron all the adventures Minhyun and Jonghyun had gotten up to if he couldn’t explain how it had taken months for Jonghyun to stop using Minhyun’s title, and then after he finally stopped, Minhyun had spent the next several years jokingly chastising Jonghyun that he should be more respectful?

How could Minhyun explain his friendship with Minki at all when nymphs only spoke with humans when they had good reasons? Minki had looked the same when Minhyun met him as a child as he did now, but he was the youngest nymph in the forest, and the son of their own leader. That didn’t quite make Minki a prince—that wasn’t how nymph’s structure worked—but it did make him able to relate to Minhyun in a way no one except Sujin could.

How could Minhyun tell Aaron how lonely it had been to grow up in a giant castle where everyone made sure he knew he was different than everyone else? How could Minhyun explain how he treasured Jonghyun and Minki because of that, and how badly he missed them?

It was thoughts like those that ensnared Minhyun late at night. He was worse at starting over than he had anticipated.

That made the night Minki appeared almost a relief, even if Minki had terrified them both in the process.

Minhyun and Aaron had been in bed, despite how it was still early. They’d originally been making out and talking and cuddling, lazily slurring the activities together. Now, Minhyun had settled with Aaron against his back.

He’d covered Aaron’s hands with his and closed his eyes, and that was when the door to their apartment flung open.

They both jolted straight up in bed and shared a wide-eyed look. This was a safe place—Aaron didn’t even keep his sword in their bedroom, and Minhyun’s bow was unstrung.

“Hey, Minhyun! Get over here already!”

Minhyun exchanged a fearful look with Aaron—though Minhyun’s fear was for a different reason.

“Minki?” Minhyun called.

A second later, Minki threw open the door to the bedroom. The knob crashed into the opposite wall.

“Minhyu—oh.”

For a second, Minhyun saw Aaron the way Minki must. Aaron was shirtless, with messy hair and a couple red marks across his collarbone that hadn’t seemed obvious until Minki was staring at him.

Minhyun wouldn’t blush. He wouldn’t. It didn’t matter that Minki had known him since he was a child.

Aaron was blushing. He managed to locate his shirt and put it on.

“Why did you come, Minki?” Minhyun asked. “I’m not going back.”

“Because you don’t want to?” Minki asked. “Or because you think you can’t?”

The latter. Both. Minhyun didn’t know; he just couldn’t.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Minki said. “The King and Queen are pissed. Sujin, too. But without the Selegnan Prince in the picture anymore, it’s nothing you can’t recover from.”

“I betrayed them,” Minhyun said. “I walked out.”

“Yeah, and you’re lucky as all Hell things happened how they did. Can you imagine if—”

“Minki, stop,” Minhyun said. His eyes slid over to Aaron, who had stiffened even more than he had when Minki had been judging his bare chest. Had he figured it out?

“Who _are_ you?” Aaron asked. Minhyun’s heart stopped for a second, but Aaron wasn’t addressing him, he was talking to Minki.

“Well, I was Minhyun’s best and oldest friend, but since he ignored my letters and made me come all this way, who knows anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Minki. You know why I didn’t answer. And Jonghyun’s my best friend.”

“I can’t believe I traveled over a grassland for you, just for you to tell me I’m not your best friend.”

“Were you okay?”

“What are you?” Aaron interrupted, and Minhyun remembered all over again that most people weren’t used to forest nymphs. Minki’s skin glowed gently, and his hair was a light lavender.

“I’m a nymph. I live in that forest everyone’s been crashing through recently. It’s a bitch to leave it, too, but here I am, because clearly, Minhyun needs an intervention,” Minki said it all simply, even though Minhyun knew he didn’t like having to explain it all that much. “The more interesting question is who are you and what are you to Minhyun?”

“Oh, I’m, uh, Aaron,” he said. “And we’re—together?” It came out uncertain, mainly because they’d never talked about what they were _._

“We’re together,” Minhyun said, and his ears burned when Aaron gave him this soft smile, and Minki’s eyebrows rose higher and higher.

“Is he why you—?”

“No,” Minhyun said. He refused to let Aaron find out like this. He didn’t want Aaron to find out at all. “It was—we met after.”

“Oh Minhyun.” Minki chuckled. “Your parents are going to be _pissed_. I’ve never seen such bad timing in my entire life.”

‘Are going to be’ not ‘would be.’ It was like Minki to assume he’d get his way.

“Would they really let me?” Minhyun asked softly. He missed the castle. He missed his family and his friends. If he could go back with Aaron, Minhyun wouldn’t get to pretend like he’d never done anything, but he’d get some of what he lost back.

Minki clicked his tongue once, then twice more as he thought. “You know, they just might. You’ll have to persuade them, if he’s got no status.” He huffed out an odd laugh. “You better thank that Kwak Prince for dying. It’s made your life a lot easier.”

Aaron half-turned away as Minki said that, and Minhyun winced. It was callous of Minki to refer to a member of the royal family of Aaron’s country like that.

“Don’t say it like that,” Minhyun chided.

“The Fae insist they didn’t do anything to him, of course,” Minki said. “It’ll take me a few more months to decode whether that really means it wasn’t them or if I just answered one of their seven riddles wrong.”

Aaron had gone horribly pale. Minhyun hoped he wasn’t remembering his own foray towards the faerie lights. Just in case, Minhyun leaned in closer and pressed their shoulders together. Aaron started at the touch but didn’t move away from it. Minhyun rubbed his back gently.

“Seriously, who makes you answer seven riddles and doesn’t tell you if you even got them right?” Minki went on. “I still bet it was them, if not directly then because they led him around in circles with those goddamn lights until something else got to him.”

“What do you think happened to him if it wasn’t the Fae?” Aaron asked.

“Who knows?” Minki asked. “But for your sake, Minhyun, I hope he never crawls out of whatever hole he ended up in.”

Aaron hadn’t been right since Minki’s visit, though he insisted nothing was wrong. It left them in an odd limbo. Minhyun didn’t know how hard to press Aaron, but it was starting to really weigh on him.

Finally, he decided it was past time for a conversation about Minki and all he’d said.

He waited until they were tangled up in bed.

“Hey, Aaron…” Minhyun said and mentally winced at the obvious hesitation.

“Mm?” Aaron sounded sleepy, and maybe Minhyun should wait? But then Aaron lifted his head from Minhyun’s chest to look at him, and Minhyun ploughed forward.

“What would you think of going to the castle?” Minhyun asked. Aaron stiffened in his arms. He planted a hand against Minhyun’s chest, so he could put some space between them. Minhyun tried desperately not to take that as a horrible sign. Maybe it was only because it was a serious conversation?

“I thought you never wanted to go back.”

“You heard Minki, though.”

“What happened to being a criminal?”

“That’s the thing—I thought I was. If it didn’t happen just like this, then I never would have been able to go back.” There was wonder in Minhyun’s voice. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he’d been with the Selegnan Prince’s disappearance.

“You should go back if it would make you happy.”

Aaron didn’t emphasize the ‘you’s any more than the other words, but they echoed in Minhyun’s ears.

“Will you come with me?”

A pause. Minhyun readied himself.

“I have a life here now, Minhyun.”

Ready or not, the words cut like arrows.

“Oh, okay. You’re right. I mean, that’s why we came here. The King and Queen would be so angry anyway, it really is best I stay away—”

“You should go back.”

“What?”

“It’s like a second chance. You can’t turn it down, not when your whole life is there.”

“You’re not there,” Minhyun argued. “Aaron—”

“You have a chance—”

“If you get to say your life is here, I get to, too,” Minhyun snapped.

“But do you want to?” Aaron asked. He put his palm on Minhyun’s chest again, then leaned up to kiss him gently. “I don’t want you to leave me, Minhyun. Not at all. But I want you to follow your heart, still.”

“You really don’t want to move?” Minhyun asked.

Aaron shook his head. There was no doubt in his eyes. “I can’t.”

Minhyun laid his head back down, and Aaron did to, but now the extra weight on his chest was suffocating, not comforting. Minhyun didn’t want to lose Aaron, but he didn’t get it. They’d only been here for three months, and yeah, they’d both made friends, but… Minhyun didn’t get it.

He waited until Aaron’s breathing evened. Then he did his best to slip out unnoticed. Minhyun couldn’t sleep like this.

He crept to the door and was mindful of its creak. Even so, as he closed it behind him, he heard a quiet, “Minhyun?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Minhyun opened the door wider again.

“You’re leaving?” Aaron sounded very small.

“Only for a little."

Outside the closed door, Minhyun rested his hand on the doorknob, too weak to move it. 

If he could barely walk out on Aaron for a couple hours, how would he ever say goodbye to Aaron for good?

Minhyun’s childhood circumstances had led to him understanding how long friendships that started ages ago worked, but new friendships were, well, new. That was why he wasn’t sure if it was okay that he ended up outside Dongho’s door. He lingered for a long time, until his burning eyes turned the wooden door blurry.

Finally, Minhyun knocked and hoped Dongho wasn’t asleep.

Dongho answered a minute later, looking ruffled and sleepy but not in pajamas. “Minhyun?”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Are you okay? Come in.” Minhyun stepped inside and took his time taking his shoes off. He wasn’t sure if what he and Aaron did even qualified as fighting, but it had thrown Minhyun off all the same. Despite coming here, he wasn’t exactly ready to explain it.

Finally, Minhyun stood in the main room of Dongho’s tiny home and tried to come up with some words. Dongho spoke before he could.

“Have you eaten?” Dongho asked.

“It’s the middle of the night?”

“So? You’re still awake.”

Minhyun tried to think back enough millennia to recall whether he had or not. His stomach growled. “I didn’t eat dinner.” 

“Well, lucky for you my brother—the baker, remember?—came by earlier, and he gave me a whole bunch of fresh egg bread. You have to try one.”

And with that, Dongho put one in Minhyun’s hands. It was about palm-sized and golden in a way that made it promise to be fluffy. Minhyun took an obedient bite.

“It’s good.” He fished out a smile for Dongho, who grinned back at him before he took a bite of his own. “Thank you.”

“You looked like you needed it,” Dongho said.

Minhyun was lucky to have Dongho. Was he just another thing Minhyun would throw away like nothing when he left?

“I fought with Aaron,” Minhyun said. “Or maybe didn’t. I don’t know. We disagreed on something important.”

“What was it about?” he asked instead.

Something grabbed Minhyun’s heart straight through his chest. He couldn't breathe right.

“I think Aaron lied to me.”

“What?”

It wasn’t that Aaron made his life here. There was something else that Aaron hadn’t told Minhyun.

“We don’t do that,” Minhyun said.

Dongho didn’t get it. “Well, yeah,” he said. “You’re in a relationship. You shouldn’t lie to each other.”

Minhyun was going to have to explain it, wasn’t he? It wouldn’t be completely out of the blue—he and Dongho had talked enough that Dongho had learned how Minhyun side-stepped certain questions.

“Me and Aaron agreed to restart here,” Minhyun said. “With each other. We don’t talk about who we were.”

It took so much explanation that Minhyun started to wonder if they’d been dumb to even try this.

Finally, Dongho said something. It was still a question, but it wasn’t one Minhyun could answer.

_Did you really expect you’d never tell each other about yourselves and it would still work out?_

Aaron was awake when Minhyun returned. He did his best to hide how he’d been pacing, but Minhyun knew his absence had been hard on Aaron.

It was too early to wake up but too late to sleep, and Minhyun didn’t know how to bridge everything between them so they could lay back down either.

They sat in different parts of their flat and pretended to have their mind on anything but each other. When the sun finally rose, Aaron went to make breakfast, and Minhyun heated water for tea. It was domestic. It was their pattern. Minhyun didn’t want to lose this.

Aaron’s eyes were red-rimmed.

“Aaron?” Minhyun asked finally, when he no longer could stand it. “Is it really because you have a life here? Is that really why you don’t want to go back with me?”

It wasn’t. Minhyun knew that for certain. The conflict in Aaron’s eyes only confirmed it further.

“No,” Aaron admitted.

“Then why?”

“I… can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Minhyun-ah.”

Dongho’s words wouldn’t get out of Minhyun’s mind.

“Are you worried that whatever you did before will catch up to you?”

Aaron wasn’t good at not giving Minhyun what he wanted. He frowned and tightened his hands around his mug. It was still steaming. It must hurt his fingers. Aaron didn’t let go for a few more seconds.

“Going back with you feels like trying to walk over a bridge I set on fire and expecting it to still work,” Aaron admitted. “But that probably makes no sense.”

Minhyun didn’t say anything. He couldn’t exactly promise Aaron he got it when he didn’t know what ‘it’ was. But from Aaron’s words, Minhyun thought he understood that feeling a lot more than Aaron expected him to.

Five months ago, Minhyun had run away from a marriage that would have taken his freedom of choice away from him. He’d faced an impossible choice, and he’d taken action. Minhyun was proud of that, no matter how poor of a decision he had made. Before this, he’d gone through life worrying he accepted to much with too little fighting for his own life.

Five months ago, Minhyun had chosen for himself. And then he’d met Aaron, and the ability to choose who he would love became everything to him, because Minhyun had made his choice.

Now he had to decide between his love and his family again. But this time was different. Minhyun wasn’t choosing between his family and the freedom of the rest of his life. This time, Minhyun was choosing between his family and Aaron, the man he’d known for five months.

Minhyun didn’t even know Aaron’s family name.

Somehow it seemed infinitely more selfish to choose Aaron over Minhyun’s duties and family and country. Especially because Minhyun thought it would have been different if Minhyun’s original choice had been between the Selegnan Prince and Aaron.

Perhaps it made no sense, but while Minhyun had been willing to choose his freedom over his country and family, he couldn’t choose one man over it all. Even if he loved that man.

It was because of that that Minhyun agreed to return with Minki, who raised his eyes skyward—or what would have been skyward, if they weren’t inside—and groaned out a ‘finally.’ Minhyun had packed already, and they would leave soon.

Aaron had not once tried to argue with Minhyun. If prodded, all Minhyun managed to get him to say was that he wanted Minhyun to do what made him most happy.

Minhyun wished he knew what that was.

They had one last evening together. Minki had made himself scarce, and Minhyun had gotten little cakes from Dongho’s brother. They were too sweet for Minhyun’s taste, but Aaron liked sweet things.

The cakes managed to coax out the barest of smiles from Aaron, but it quickly dropped when Minhyun grabbed his hand in both of his. Minhyun’s heart banged so hard and high it hurt his throat.

Aaron deserved to know this, but it could ruin the little time they still had. If Aaron began calling Minhyun by his title, it would break Minhyun’s heart. But either way, Minhyun would break it tomorrow.

“I know this isn’t ending how either of us wants,” Minhyun said. He said it carefully, even though he instead wanted to scream for Aaron to come with him. “And…I want to explain why I need to go.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Minhyun said. “I think I’ll regret this less, if you know. And this way…if things ever change, you’ll know where to find me.”

“They won’t.” Aaron wouldn’t look at him. “I’m not going to infringe on your happiness.”

“You make me happy,” Minhyun said. “Happier than I ever thought I’d be when I left the castle.”

Now Aaron looked nervous but not too surprised. He’d known about that already. Dawn still used the same tack Minhyun had taken from the stables that night.

“There were a bunch of times I thought you figured it out. Especially at the beginning. You’re so stupidly smart sometimes.”

“I knew you had some sort of high status from the beginning,” Aaron admitted. “I got worried you’d leave me behind if I said too much about it.”

“Dongho called me dumb for thinking we could do this without talking about who we were.”

“Does he know?” He seemed unhappy with that. Was it jealousy?

“No. I still—I did something bad.” It wasn't something Minhyun wanted to talk about.

“You betrayed someone,” Aaron said. Then he looked uncertain. “That’s what you told Minki.”

Minhyun grimaced. “I had obligations. I didn’t do them. I ran away. That night… I told you it was a crime because I put people in danger.”

Aaron seemed to get that. Maybe Minhyun had given him enough hints before. Maybe Minhyun had wanted Aaron to guess it since nearly the beginning.

“It’s only a weird circumstance that I can go back at all,” Minhyun admitted. “I’d still have that obligation otherwise.”

“The Selegnan Prince?” Aaron guessed. “How does he come into any of this?” His voice was guarded now. The death must still sting. Perhaps the Prince had been well-loved.

“Did you like him?” Minhyun asked. “I mean, from whatever you knew about him?”

“That’s…a really complicated question.”

“You knew him well?” Had Aaron been mourning this entire time?

“I only traveled here because he agreed to marry the Hwang Prince.”

Hearing his own name threw Minhyun off. He did his best to regroup.

“I left because of the marriage agreement,” Minhyun admitted. He was scared to say it. He wanted Aaron to put everything together—but it seemed he couldn’t.

“What are you saying?” Aaron’s voice was quiet, weighed down by the gravity of the situation. Minhyun got the sense that the next thing he said would change everything between them.

“I found out about the marriage three days before he was supposed to arrive. They couldn’t even tell me his name, and my Father didn’t even tell me in person. He thought marrying the Prince was just one of my duties to the country and not a big deal, and I couldn’t do it.” Minhyun tried to smile. “I’m not a criminal or anything. I’m actually just really, really selfish.”

Aaron was staring. His mouth was slightly open, but he didn’t go to say anything. Minhyun swallowed, and the motion seemed to push him toward action. Aaron reached out toward him and held Minhyun’s hands like he could disappear.

“If that makes you selfish,” Aaron said. “Then I am too.”

“You don’t understand. I walked out on my family. I walked out on my country!” He tried to move back, but Aaron wouldn’t let him go. To Minhyun’s embarrassment, Aaron’s grip on his hands prevented him from hiding the tears welling in his eyes.

Aaron wiped them off his cheek. “I didn’t want to marry someone I didn’t know either.” He released Minhyun only to grip Minhyun’s shoulders and smile inappropriately wide. “Minhyun. _Minhyun._ This changes everything. I can’t believe this happened.”

“What are you talking about?” The more Minhyun blinked, the more silent tears ran down his cheeks. Aaron kept wiping them off, murmuring _‘don’t cry; don’t cry’_ like Minhyun could control anything about anything that was happening right now.

“I didn’t know your name either, Hwang Minhyun. And I thought I could go through with it—but the closer I got…”

“The closer you got?”

“I wanted to go anywhere but the way I was going. Even if it meant trying to find the forest path.”

“That sounds like Faerie influence.”

“Minhyun, are you listening to what I’m saying?” Aaron reached up and held both sides of Minhyun’s face, so he had to look directly at Aaron. His eyes were dark and big and honest and as beautiful as they were the first time Minhyun saw them.

“Tell me again?” Minhyun pleaded.

“My name is Aaron Kwak, and if you go back to the castle with me, you’ll have to marry me.”

A long pause.

“You can’t be.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Minhyun.”

And he wasn’t. Minhyun knew Aaron wasn’t lying.

What Minhyun didn’t know was how to answer, but Aaron took care of that too. The kiss was long and sweet and made it easy for Minhyun to say everything he wanted without words. And when he finally let go of Aaron, Minhyun figured out the words he wanted to say.

"I love you."

They told Minki. Out of necessity—plans had changed and now there was much more to arrange before they left—and because he was one of Minhyun’s best friends. The latter duty led to some controversy, as Minki took the couple days to figure Aaron out.

 _‘He lied to you,’_ Minki said, when Minhyun tried to get him to stop. He didn’t buy Minhyun’s attempt to explain how Aaron absolutely didn’t lie to him.

It began with Minki loitering around Aaron as though he was suspicious of him and his intentions, then became Minki discovering Aaron was a bit jumpy and delighting in scaring him.

Over the trip home it changed again—as if Minhyun didn’t have enough whiplash already—and then when Minki would annoy him, Aaron would whine back, and then _Aaron_ would annoy _Minki_.

It was all very confusing, but they seemed to like each other (Minhyun thought?) so he figured it was a good thing. Minhyun liked seeing Minki and Aaron getting along well.

The next hurdles were Minhyun’s family and Jonghyun.

Of course, re-entering the castle went about as well as expected. Minhyun’s parents were happy to see him safe, then angry because Minhyun had ran away, then confused about who exactly Aaron was, and finally angry again because Minhyun had let them scold him in front of the Selegnan Prince. It was an ordeal, to say the least.

Minhyun’s parents brought in the only Selegnan knight who remained at the castle from Aaron’s original party. Aaron faced him with the same mess of guilt and uncertainty seeping from his being as Minhyun felt every time he saw someone here who knew him. It was oddly comforting, even when the knight hugged Aaron, then proceeded to grab him by the collar and threaten him about if Aaron ever dared to disappear again—

It confirmed that Aaron truly was who he said he was, at least.

Aaron assimilated with an ease that shouldn’t have surprised Minhyun, considering. He had a grace to him that turned him into a poised prince when necessary, but one that he didn’t even try to uphold when only with Minhyun.

Even though their entire world had flipped over a few times, it was still the same when it was just the two of them.

Like now, though that would shortly change. The walk to the stables wasn’t long, and Minhyun was too excited to linger anywhere, even though this was Aaron’s first time in their gardens. Aaron’s knight had told them they’d found Aaron’s horse, and that she was safely under Jonghyun’s care in their stables.

Aaron had wanted to see her, but that wasn’t why Minhyun was excited. He’d missed Jonghyun like crazy.

Minhyun secured the gate behind them. In the fields ahead, the horses grazed. The stable was close by, its door wide open. Jonghyun was likely working inside, but with any luck, Minhyun would be able to convince him to take his lunch break and eat with them.

“Jonghyun?” Minhyun called. The smell of horse and musty hay oozed through the door. It took a second for Minhyun to see much in the dim room after the bright light outside.

Jonghyun’s head poked out of the side room they kept the feed in.

“Minhyun?” Jonghyun hadn’t changed—mussed hair, some dirt on his hands and more on his clothes. The stables had more dust than oxygen in the air, so Minhyun let Jonghyun come to him.

He bridged the distance easily but didn’t immediately go for a hug. Minhyun normally hadn’t touched Jonghyun when he was dirty, but this was a special circumstance. He tucked Jonghyun in close.

“I knew you’d come down here eventually,” Jonghyun said, and it was just like him to wait for Minhyun to come rather than search Minhyun out himself. “You took a long time, though.”

“It’s been crazy,” Minhyun admitted.

“I’m not surprised,” Jonghyun said. “Minki dropped by this morning, you know. Told me we probably wouldn’t have to rescue you from the dungeons but only because the Fae stopped you from doing something real dumb.”

Minki had been theorizing that the Fae hadn’t wanted to risk a war coming anywhere near their forests. It was possible, Minhyun gave him that, but the truth was—Minhyun didn’t totally care how it all happened.

“Whatever happened, I’m glad it did,” Minhyun said. He threw a glance back outside.

Aaron had managed to find his horse, a pretty bay mare. His voice barely reached them—’ _I really didn’t mean to leave you. I swear—’_

“So, the Prince?”

“You’ll like him,” Minhyun said. “You should eat lunch with us. Get to know him a little. And we can catch up.”

“I have missed the meals I used to get with you.”

“Don’t even try and act like the cooks don’t give you food every bit as good as before.” Minhyun laughed and punched Jonghyun’s shoulder lightly. “You’re their favorite, and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m their _favorite_ ,” Jonghyun said, but he was grinning. This was far from the first time they’d talked like this.

“Yeah. Right.”

“Introduce me to the Prince now,” Jonghyun said. “I want to meet the guy you managed to fall in love with long before you knew who he was.”

“I see Minki’s been telling you stories,” Minhyun grumbled.

“I told you he stopped by.” Jonghyun threw a quick glance back to a table propped in the far back of the stable. On it, there were some fresh flowers.

Maybe Jonghyun had changed in some ways over the past few months. Minhyun would coax it out of him later. For now, he led Jonghyun the rest of the way outside.

Aaron’s horse took one look at Jonghyun and abandoned Aaron. She side-stepped around Minhyun to make it clear she’d only come for Jonghyun, then nudged his shoulder with the side of her head. 

“Hey, girl,” Jonghyun said. He waited until she was done saying hello to scratch behind her ears.

“Whoa,” Aaron said. “She likes you a lot.”

Minhyun nearly laughed at Aaron’s look of wonder. He’d told Aaron that Jonghyun would have his horse wrapped around his finger, but Aaron apparently hadn’t believed it—she could be damn stubborn, according to him.

“She’s great,” Jonghyun said. “I’ve loved taking care of her.”

Aaron smiled tentatively back at Jonghyun.

“I should’ve warned you,” Minhyun said. “Everyone—animals, people, doesn’t matter—likes Jonghyun better. It’s best to just get used to it.”

“Shut up.” Jonghyun pushed Minhyun’s shoulder. “Are we going to lunch or not?”

Minhyun had embarrassed him, and now Minhyun laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder. Minhyun hadn’t realized how happy it would make him to have his friend and Aaron together, in one place.

Jonghyun ducked out from under Minhyun’s arm, and Minhyun instead took Aaron’s hand. He squeezed it, and Aaron squeezed back.

It was more than enough. No matter what big plans the future held for them, this, right now, was enough.

"You do have one leg up on me, Minhyun," Jonghyun said.

"What's that?"

"Only you would run away to avoid having to marry a man you didn't love only to come back because you fell in love with him anyway."

\--

Aaron liked to hold Minhyun. They’d established that long ago—back in the beginning of them living together. Even though Minhyun’s bed here was giant and covered in pillows, Aaron still managed to curl himself around Minhyun’s back.

Often, Minhyun woke up first. He would nudge their covers down so it wasn’t quite so hot, and Aaron would pull Minhyun closer in retaliation and make this adorable fussy sleep noise. Minhyun would enjoy it, or he would push his luck and maneuver them around the other way, because he also liked how Aaron fit in his arms.

Aaron would grumble then and rouse, but generally had no problem drifting back off for a little longer.

Today, however, a knock on the door interrupted Minhyun’s decision-making. He didn’t know who it could be—or rather, he knew it was some castle messenger, but Minhyun didn’t know what the message was about.

In the morning light, Minhyun slipped from bed and stood. Aaron groaned and then said a quiet, rough, “Minhyun?” but Minhyun only hushed him.

Minhyun ran a hand through his hair and didn’t dare to look too closely in his mirror. He did, however, take the time to put a shirt and actual pants on.

By then, Aaron had lifted his head.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked.

Minhyun made some kind of ‘I dunno’ noise. “We’ll find out.”

He pulled open the door. Sure enough, it was a castle messenger. More than that, it was one Minhyun recognized. Six months ago, she’d given him news that had changed his entire life.

“Your Highness,” she said. Minhyun remembered her smile. She’d been so apologetic that night. “I have a message for you.”

“What is it?” Minhyun asked. He was almost nervous, as though the messenger would drop another bomb on him. She couldn’t, though. Not when the Selegnan Prince was in his bed and Minhyun wanted nothing more than to marry him.

“The tailors are coming today for measurements for you and Prince Aaron. They should arrive by mid-morning. And beforehand, Her Majesty the Queen requests your presence at breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Minhyun said. So it was all good news. His parents honestly wanted to get to know Aaron, even after everything. They hadn’t addressed what actually happened to Aaron—with Minhyun so clearly having run away, there was no reason for them to press to determine whether Aaron attempted to run from their agreement or not.

Really, it was better to leave it all behind them. To Aaron’s family, one of the search and rescue attempts—headed by Minhyun, of course—had successfully located Aaron. Like most who were taken captive by the Fae and then later released, Aaron had no memories of the missing time.

To Minhyun’s family, it was more complicated, but they would work on it.

“Sir?” the messenger said. 

“Yes?”

“I’m glad everything has worked out for you,” she said. It surprised Minhyun how much it meant to him to hear her say that, when they really knew nothing about each other.

“I’m glad, too,” Minhyun said softly. He bade the messenger goodbye and she hurried off.

Minhyun turned back to see Aaron stretching. The blankets pooled on his lap, and Minhyun’s eyes stuck fast to his exposed chest and how the edge of his hipbone was visible above the covers.

Aaron’s little huff of amusement drew Minhyun’s attention away.

“We have to get ready,” Aaron said, like he thought Minhyun needed the reminder.

“You’re the one still in bed.”

Aaron groaned as he rolled out of it. He made his way to Minhyun’s closet and rifled through his side of it.

Minhyun never thought he would like sharing his room as much as he did. And after they were married, they’d move out to another castle in another province. Minhyun hadn’t mentioned it to Aaron yet, but he thought they might be able to live in the same town they’d lived in previously. It would be different, of course, but Minhyun thought Aaron would like that.

Aaron threw a balled-up shirt at Minhyun. He tried to catch it and missed.

“Is there a reason you’re standing there and staring at me?” Aaron asked. By now, he had this soft-looking sweater on.

“I’m thinking,” Minhyun said. Normally Aaron would make a joke about Minhyun thinking too much and not being all that good at it anyway. Something to pull Minhyun out of his own head.

Today, Aaron asked, “about what?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

The fact that they could joke about that was part of why Minhyun was so happy.

“I was thinking about how perfect things are,” Minhyun admitted.

Aaron closed the closet door and made his way over to Minhyun. He kissed him gently, quickly. Barely anything, but everything Minhyun wanted. Minhyun would never get tired of this.

Aaron tapped Minhyun’s chest. “Now, c’mon. I’ve already made like four bad impressions with your parents. Don’t make me late.”

Minhyun agreed, but he stole one more kiss first.

Now he was ready.

**Author's Note:**

> ???????????? hope you enjoyed ??????????????
> 
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